Hedge Clippers are the Path to Love
by Muffin Is Injured
Summary: I know you've been marking the days on your calender. I'm baack! An AU, surpisingly not a WITWI. What if a fan visited Stars Hollow and did a little matchmaking? You're curious, no? JavaJunkie. Cut, end scene, and print.
1. Everybody Hits on Kirk

_WARNING: The fic you are about to read is very crazy and very, very AU. Yet it amuses me. I've decided, with the aid of **lukelaiandroryndean**, that everything in the world is divided into two categories for me- amusing and irritating._

_This fic was created in my mind very early in the morning as I lay awake, afflicted by jet lag. (Yes, this means the idea was formulated back in August.) Get ready for the shocker- it's not a What in the World If? fic like my other ones. Hold on, I'll get the smelling salts. I know, it shocks me too. But hey, what can you do with jet lag? You go crazy. One morning I woke up at 2:30 and made pasta._

_It's a one shot. It's set sometime in season four when the glorious couple isn't together. This is a Trory, by the way._

_Hah! You so just fell out of your chair. Relax, I'm joking. I may be jet lagged, but I'm not certifiably insane. The glorious couple whom I speak of are, of course, Luke and Lorelai. Neither of them have significant others during this. Well, the question here is- **what if a fan visited Stars Hollow?** That's the AUness. in this fic, the fans decide that enough is enough, and so 'a fan' pays a little visit to the town of Stars Hollow and give those two the proverbial ice-cold-bucket in the face._

_That's the weird part, and I am even thinking it's much too weird. So, here's the deal- if you want, just imagine it's YOU going to visit them, because that might be more enjoyable. I would not write one of you going to visit because, well, I don't really know you. I kinda sorta fully based the fan on myself. I am NOT conceited! But anyway, you can just think of it as a nameless fan. So, think of it however you want- I'm mainly posting it because it amuses me and I love the writing I used in here, and I can't take it out and put it in another fic, and then I would get depressed because the writing wasn't living up to its true potential, and then I'd get moody and cut off all my gorgeous hair and start wearing black and hating the world and, well, that wouldn't be much fun for anyone. So please excuse the randomness of this fic's idea. _

_Short self indulgence: Who else besides me, **lukelaiandroryndean**, and **pOnDeReSqUe **thinks that it sounded like Luke was rapping near the end of his roof scene at the end of the season premiere? I watched it so many times on my friend's Tivo that she actually wrestled it away from me and yelled at me, and I threw a spoon covered in caramel. "You gotta understand something, I'm in the middle! Yeah, she's your daughter, but I'm in the middle! Good, coz you been acting like you DON'T know, like you're alone in this or something! And I know you don't want my advice, but you're BOTH being dumb, and you SHOULD be talking!" Seriously, rewatch it. Then you will have slightly disturbing but very amusing images of Luke in a doorag with lots of bling, pulling MC Hammer moves and whatnot._

_**What time is it, kids? That's right- it's DISCLAIMING TIME! **I tried to work something out with the WB where they gave me Gilmore Girls in exchange for lapdances (from both me AND **pOnDeReSqUe**, although I hadn't quite run the idea across her- I knew she was always up for a good lapdance). Strangely, they didn't go for it._

**Shout outs, just for a change…**

**pOnDeReSqUe: **A Laura salad? Nope, doesn't have the same ring. A Muffin's my Honeybunny society? That is the coolest hypothetical society EVER. I would so join it. McMuffins! I love it! My fics are now officially called McMuffins, people. Where's the brown spot from? Coffee? Tea? Worchester sauce? I love your imaginary rant about Barry/Luke. I love it so much, I need to name it. Priscilla. Now I can yell "Barry! Luke! Priscilla! Stella! Adrian! James Isaac Neutron!" Two bars of dark chocolate? Geez, I didn't know I had that power in me. "WHY YES, I DO KNOW I JUST COPY AND PASTED AN ENTIRE PARAGRAPH INTO THIS REVIEW!" Love that. You want to have an orgy with all parts of my fic? By all means, go ahead. Yeah, I know it's Melinda… sorry. Can't I slip up ever? Guheez.

**lukelaiandroryndean:** It's LASSIE! –sparkle sparkle- Call me Hanna all you want. I only eat dark chocolate when seriously provoked anyway. Dropping hints like fireworks on the 4th of July? Love the random metaphor. Love the long review, I laugh and hand you many fishsticks, and oh my geez.

**Beeba****Baby**: Oh, your face is disappointing, be quiet, you. I josh, I really lobe you, although I might lobe the hardness just a tad more.

**Izzpuppy**: Woah there. Your reviews are expanding at great amounts. The words are multiplying like rabbits. I like that song. And I don't write fics on paper and then leave them in my pockets, so you're safe there. I'm sorry, did you just say you leave me short reviews? Huh, you definitely need glasses. Or new eyes. Ones that work. Poor Billy, I should've let him shuck corn with his Paw. We had to record what we ate the entire day for my human development class. It was a health obsessed thing, and everyone laughed at me when I told them I had six pieces of pizza and an éclair for breakfast. Oh boy, you are great. Here, you're higher on the totem pole. Keep doing what you're doing (analyzing my every word).

**Alexiamanda**: You're crazy. Keep your cheeks, I have my own. (On your face, dirty minded person.) Huh, I'm almost sad I never got my mouth washed out, because now you have all this knowledge about the taste of soaps. I absolutely love that you threw yourself a party. I am so doing that sometime. I don't have any board games, though. NONE. I know. The evils of moving. It was weird, I read Mockingbird over the summer, and after I finished it, I was told I needed to read it for school. Coincidence? I think not.

**oywidapoodles**: I know what you mean… when I went to England, I watched The Pacifier two times in a row to get the LG fix in (that crazy Brit country doesn't have Gilmore). Two times! I had to mentally plaster Luke's face on Vin Diesel because, one, it's wrong for her to kiss anyone else, and two, ew. Vin Diesel.

**Krys33**: I learned to German polka! I've been forced into dance at my school. But we are not writing that polka book, because the German polka is HARD. You do this weird thing called the buzz where your feet keep changing directions and you turn but you're supposed to go in one direction. Those damn Germans.

**jennalynn**: I have never actually had the ice cream, I was boycotting its stupidity. I went to get it the other day, but it was GONE. I was so mad. I had a Love It pumpkin ice cream with Heath bar in a waffle bowl, though, which was good. And they had waffle cone samples on the counter, and I think I took seven.

**ultimategilmoregirl**: I like rolls.

**jennisfifi**: That's very wonderful that you make out with your husband on your non-existent couch.

**candlewick866**: Good point. Maybe he had a transplant or something.

**MM Vermelha: **Those nipples? Nuff said, man.

**RougeHoney**: Funny you should mention it was like a deleted scene. Because, well, that's what I wrote it as.

**LLFreak8285**: Sorry about your… pimples. And backwards butt.

**NotSoWeirdo56, Mickey, Bloomin Daisy **(my penname's explained in the last chapter of Saftey Dance actually, head on over), **Baby Girl Geller-Green, orangesherbet7 **(NO you may not trade, no one likes fishsticks including me so deal, hon), **hermione0624, Izzpuppy, oywidapoodles, **and probably more**-** thanks for all the fish(sticks).

* * *

**Hedge Clippers are the Path to Love**

Chapter One: Everybody Hits On Kirk

* * *

_We start with Luke…_

* * *

The bell jingled as she pushed the door open and slid into a seat at the counter. "Coffee, please," she announced.

Luke looked up. "How old are you, kid?"

"My mother told me never to disclose important information to a stranger," she informed him solemnly, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear.

"I'm not giving you coffee," he said, shaking his head as he refilled the filter.

"But I'm a paying customer," reminded the girl, shaking her purse. "And, as the customer, I am always right. So if I said that I deserved coffee, it would be correct. So hand it over, buddy."

"You do remember that, as the proprietor of this establishment, I have the right to refuse service to anyone, including you. Those words too big for you?" He left the counter and began to top off people's cups. The girl jumped off her stool and followed him.

"Don't be condescending," replied the girl scathingly. "I have a very extensive vocabulary, thank you very much. And you can only refuse service for practical reasons. This is age discrimination."

"Age discrimination?"

"Yeah, you know. Like sexist, or racist. But age-ist."

"Is that a word?" Luke asked.

"How should I know?" shrugged the girl.

"You're the one with the oh-so-extensive vocabulary," said Luke. He turned back to a table, grabbing the plates. "Stop following me."

"Where you lead, I will follow."

"But I'm not going to give you coffee. You shouldn't be poisoning your body so young."

"This is a free country, and I have the right to decide when I will drink coffee. And I'm old enough to drink coffee anyway. You are obviously behind the times. You gave coffee to Rory when she was, what, 10, and take a look at me, I am most definitely older than 10. Ugh, this pot is old."

Luke turned around to see her behind the counter, sipping from a take-out cup. "Get out from behind the counter! You're not supposed to be there!"

"So where's the fun in obeying?" She calmly returned to the right side, settling herself on a stool.

"You're obviously new to this town," replied Luke dryly.

"True. I wanted to see Luke Danes throw a patented fit," she admitted, ripping open a couple packs of sugar and tossing them in her cup.

"How did you know my name?" he asked, slightly suspicious, as he clanked the plates on the dividing wall.

"Partly my magic. Partly the big sign outside saying 'Luke's Diner.'"

"Oh, that." He stuck his head through the door to the kitchen. "Ceaser, two tuna melts, one rye, one white, both no tomatoes."

"That sounds like a disgusting order. I think fish is gross. And taking away the tomatoes is just blasphemy." She took a sip from her coffee. "I think Lorelai is waiting for her burger. She seems past breaking point. She's actually initiated conversation with Kirk, which we all know is pretty desperate."

Luke turned to see Lorelai leaning over Kirk by his table. He was recoiling, as if he was scared she'd attack him or something.

"I see you've ordered a grilled chicken sandwich. Very interesting. What made you make that particular choice? Were you glancing through the menu and that certain dish just caught your eye? Did you wake up this morning and think, 'Hey, I'm in the mood for some chicken. Grilled, maybe. Perhaps I'll have it between two pieces of bread.' I'm dying to know. What made you go with chicken and not turkey? Some reports say turkey might be healthier, since the bird is more active and therefore leaner. But I don't know that much about birds or the leanness of their muscles, so don't ask any follow up questions on the matter. I'm sure it would be something easily researched on the internet, though. Have you every noticed how weird it is that you can find out such random stuff on the internet? I mean, who takes their time to write a site about turkey muscles? Don't they have anything better to do with their life? A pet, a job, even a hobby? Perhaps miniature golfing, I hear that's big with some. Or writing dark poetry with hidden double meanings." Lorelai was on a roll (no butte joke intended). "Or making mosaic tiles for the bathroom wall. Or writing old letters from the times of the Revolutionary War and then burning them. What's with that, anyway, why do people do that? No one writes letters and then whips them around their heavily-candled room, even back then. "Dear Scottie, Sorry, old bean, but I accidentaly dropped this letter onto a gas stove, which luckily burnt all the edges into a pretty crispy pattern but didn't quite reach the words themselves. Go figure!' It's insanity."

"I have a girlfriend," Kirk managed to stutter out.

"I know, Kirk. Can't I talk to you without having an ulterior motive?"

"It's never happened before."

Lorelai gasped. "That's not true. Remember five years ago when I asked you to hand me some peanut butter at the market? No ulterior motive there."

"The ulterior motive was to get the peanut butter," argued Kirk.

"Ah, but the motive wasn't hidden, it was out in the open. I came straight out with the motive. It wasn't ulterior."

"That's not what ulterior means."

"It is too!" said Lorelai, shocked. "You don't believe me? Go get a dictionary, right here, right now, let's do this, let's have this out. I'll wait."

"Can I just eat my grilled chicken sandwich, please?" he asked sharply.

"I'm not stopping you."

"You're standing within my eating space," he corrected her. "You're crowding me, I can't eat like that. I begin to hyperventilate, which causes me to choke. I'm very claustrophobic."

Lorelai backed off, her hands raised in surrender. "Excuse me, I forgot my tape measurer at home. I'll be sure to bring it next time."

"You do that," said the oblivious Kirk sternly, ripping a bite off his sandwich.

Luke grabbed the burger off the ledge where Ceaser had just laid it. "Oh, watch it," said the girl suddenly. "Miss Patty is coming in, and you're wearing the blue flannel. If you don't want to get jumped, go around the other way. Babette's over there, so she'll be going that way." The door swung open and Miss Patty waltzed in.

"Patty! Over here!" said Babette, waving the woman over vigorously.

"Hey, doll," she said, sitting down next to her. Her voice barely lowered into an audible whisper. "Take a look at Luke, I see he's gone with the blue flannel today. Can you say me-ow?"

"Oh, I could've, but those muscles have made me lose the ability to speak."

Luke turned to the girl, amazed. "If you're knew in town, like you say, how come you know so much about its workings?"

The girl looked down and clasped her hands. "Well, Luke, I have something to tell you." She took a deep breath. "I'm God."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Right."

"No, it's true," she said earnestly. "I'm using this girl's body temporarily to visit the earth because I didn't think that whole birthing-a-son-to-a-virgin gag would work twice. Finally, the day has arrived. Sinners will burn in hell while the merciful travel to my mountain up in heaven! We've gotten rid of all those pesky snakes to avoid further complications. Jesus said he would rather not be nailed to a cross again. Not that anyone would, you know what I mean? Sounds kind of painful. Glad it was him and not me! That's what sons are for, I suppose. Taking the fall for me, good on ya, Jeezy Creezy."

Luke returned from dropping off Lorelai's burger. "How very enlightening." He called back to Ceaser. "Still waiting for my tuna melts."

"Dirty," giggled the girl.

"Keep your pants on, I'm getting to it!" came back the snappy reply.

"Dirty," said the girl again.

"Hopefully before I'm in a retirement home."

"Do you think you can retire 30 years early? For me?"

"Keep going and you'll be in forced retirement sooner than you expected," called Luke.

There was a long pause. Then two plates appeared on the barrier with a clang. "Two tuna melts."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Ceaser."

"Dirty!" repeated the girl.

"Stop saying that," he snapped as he passed her and delivered the two tuna melts to a table near Kirk. "There ya go." He turned to Kirk. "Refill?"

"I have a girlfriend," Kirk replied.

"I know, Kirk, you've told me that every single time I came over to your table. Do you think I'm going to try and make a move on you?"

"Her name is Lulu."

"That's fascinating."

"Her favorite color is…"

"…lavender. I know. Her cat when she was a child was named Rainbows, her full name is Lucie, she has two sisters named Robin and Fiona, also known as _Roro_ and _Fifi_, and she broke her pinky when she was seven. Did I cover it all?"

Kirk stared at him for a couple of moments, blinking. "I have a girlfriend," he said.

Luke turned back to the counter. "We're done here."

The girl had finished her first cup. She intertwined her fingers and rested her chin on them, watching Luke. "So, Lucas. Find it a little unfair that Kirk has a girlfriend and not you?"

Luke narrowed his eyes. "Silly me, I forgot your refill," he said, pouring more coffee into her cup without complaint.

"This better not be decaf," said the girl sternly, sniffing the cup distrustfully. She continued. "Anyway, as I was saying, I know this isn't something you probably want to hear, but I think the time is right to go for Lorelai."

Luke slammed the coffee pot down on the counter, droplets spraying everywhere. "Oh really? _You_ think the time is right? A teenager who just got here and knows nothing about me _or_ Lorelai?"

The girl ignored his maniacal outburst, being not only used to them but amused by them. "I think you should cut the low self-esteem crap. Why wouldn't she want you? Face it, she definitely likes you."

"What do you know?" he snapped.

"Watch all of season five if you don't believe me," scoffed the girl.

"What?" He was answered only with a suggestive eyebrow twitch. He sighed. "Why are you here? To get me to make a fool out of myself?"

"Actually, Luke," she said, her voice breaking, "I'm your daughter."

Luke stared at her for a few seconds. "What?" he managed to force out.

The girl kept a straight face for about one-eighth of a second before she started to laugh hysterically. "Oh, man, I so got you." She slapped the counter. "I am _good_. You should've seen your face. You look like Lorelai just told you she was switching to everything tofu." She snorted once, giggling manically.

Luke grunted and shook his head. "Just what this town needs, more insane people."

The girl put a hand on her heart. "Your words hurt me, Luke." She scrabbled through her purse, pulling out all sorts of junk.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as a picture of a woman with a baby, a roasted almond, and a broken dragonfly broach that now looked like a fly were added to the growing pile of junk on his counter.

She finally pulled out her wallet. "You thought you could escape from me, didn't you? Foolish purse. Dorothy's not the brightest of all wallets," she explained knowingly to Luke. The girl pulled out a dollar bill. "Keep the change. And remember what I said. She's into you. If you ask her out, it'll be worth it. Ah, ah, ah!" She abruptly cut him off as he opened his mouth. "No reply. Think about it." She flashed him a brilliant smile. "Have a nice day, Luke. The pot I drank from may have been old, but the talk about your coffee sure isn't exaggerated." She grabbed her cup of coffee but, instead of leaving, she turned towards a different table.

* * *

I actually do have all that stuff in my purse. I stole the picture of the teacher off the wall at my old school- her name was Mrs. Pflieger (Fleeger) and her husband was so freaky. He worked there for summer camp, and we'd be downstairs in the music room, and there he'd be, reading his newspaper. And we'd go up to my mom's classroom and there he'd already be, reading his newspaper! It was intensely freaky. My friend started asking him questions about sheep, and he duct taped her mouth up. Then he picked her up and tried to throw her in a blow-up pool. It was very bizarre. We named him The Fleeg, and her Mrs. The Fleeg, and, sadly, they recently had a Baby The Fleeg. Poor kid. I stole the picture of Mrs. And Baby The Fleeg from the office at my school fair. Because it's nice to feel like a rebel once in a while. (And yes, **pOnDeReSqUe**, that's Miss Wildermuth. "Pass the nuts, David.")

The roasted almond was there too. When we went to my grandad's house in England, he roasted two bowls of almonds especially for us. Now, they were not very tasty, but I knew he'd feel bad if we didn't eat them, because the only thing he ever does for us is cook, so whenever he turned his back, I would shove a handful into my purse. I collected a very large lot, lemme tell ya, half a bowl about. A few days later, my cousin ate half of them. Go figure.

Sorry this part is so short… I'm gonna post the next part soon because- (insert shocked gasp) I actually have it already written! Geez, this fic goes against everything I know. But, see, I was planning to just post it all together at one point, so I had it written, but then I realized that gets me three times as less reviews. It's true. So I'm just doing it this way.

Anyways, _please_ review, because reviewers not only make my day, but my week, month, and year. Yeah. Top that. And it's not all give give give- if you know me you are fully aware of the ridiculously verbose shout-outs I give to the worthy. Become the worthy, my friends. Take the plunge and leave me a fishstick.


	2. Don't Diss Jesus

_Glad to know the AUness of my fic has been accepted. And dontcha just love the new girl? I know I sure do. Because, you know, she's me. And who could not love me?_

_Okay, so I Googled my penname and came across this rather intriguing tidbit…_

_A_ dog named Muffin injured itself by trying to get Safeway (a British supermarkety-gas stationy thingy place) leaflets from his door. His owner, Gordon Musselwhite, is suing Safeway.

_Hmm._

_A lot of you said, "Huh, you're a redhead? I more pictured you as a blonde." What does that mean? Why do I seem blonde? Blonde can have some negative connotations. Should I be offended? –cocks eyebrow inquisitively- And also, have you thought about why blonde is the only hair color with a connotation? Brunettes, redheads, black-haired people- no meanings. But blonde is universal known as stupid. Now, why is this?_

_Also, many people said they didn't get the title. Well, duh. It hasn't come up yet. It's in the third (last) chapter. If you got it, that would be a little creepy, Miss Claire Voyant._

_And all the people who yelled at me about the Trory thing… sorry, I just can't help myself sometimes. I laughed so hysterically at all you people. **Izzpuppy** reviews as she reads, and she actually went on a rant about why the hell was I writing a Trory, and then she was like, "Oh. … You're very cruel." I loved it. A bunch of you told me you fell out of your chairs, so thank you for that mental image._

**Disclaimer**: I don't own, I RENT. Luke, Lorelai, Rory, etc. equals not mine. But Guinevere/Hanna/nameless-person is all mine. MINE, I tell you! Amy, eat your heart out.

**Out come the shouts…**

**Laura of the Lucious Loins: **A Hydrangea bush? I tell you, you get full marks for obscure wildlife references… and I don't give full marks out of that category easily, it's my toughie. You need to make that website. Am I an Amy or a Lorelai? Hard to tell, since they're kind of the same person. Ish. But not really. Woah, the mind is blown. Who am I? An anvil portal… I have one of those! … No, really. I hate how Bot Boy takes away excessive typingness if you go over 2. It's incredibly obnoxious. Huh, I was about to get water, but I was sad because it was all gone, but then I realized I had another full glass sitting right there. I'm weird like that, having two glasses of water I alternate drinking from. Greatest quote ever- "Why yes, I have rubbed my butt all over Amy Sherman-Palladino's lap, and she LIKED it." It needs a plaque, or a name (how we honor everything). Phillis. There. A beautiful name for a beautiful quote. Delicate sobbing, nice oxymoron. What did you call me? Oh, just shut up and pass the nuts.

**Lassie**: Oh, you. My heart sure is pounding. I love our little conversation you put in the review. And by the way, missy, I'm, not MuffinIsInjured. It's just…. Muffin Is Injured. In all its simplistic, confusing glory. I have a humor of sense? Much better than a sense of humor. I can write myself well? Let's hope so. There might be a problem if I could write Luke and not myself. Throwing my fishsticks to the dogs… nice cliché. Not only are you the queen of random metaphors, you are apparently the queen of offbeat clichés. Is this shoutout long enough? Oh my geez, Lassie. You make me… what's that word? That's right… GIGGLE. Yes. Giggle.

**Izz to the puppy: **Here, you're a bear. Happy, you happy? I'm with you on the animal thing… "In the doghouse, are you chicken, you dog, multiplying like rabbits, mad cow…" Uh, there's no doubt more, but I can't think of them, and I don't want to spend the next 20 minutes thinking about it when I could be writing your shoutout. That flavor thing was VERY dirty, but since you asked, I'm a blueberry muffin. And on whimsical days, I may have some chocolate chips along with the berries. Did you know that raspberry muffins are so good? Yeah, it's like a discovery. I think it was penne, but I don't remember. It could have been those swirly guys (fusili) or the bow tie babies. I love drawing pasta. I love Tooky. Allo, Tookster! "I'm sorry, do I know you? My name is Too-ky. Tooky." Yes, Tooky, we've met numerous times. Oh, you. YOU. You are funny. Write a fan fic, dammit! I love how, before reviewing, you go on a huge shpiel about your summer and all around life. That is the genius that is **Izzpuppy**. Your cat sure likes fan belts. I cannot frickin BELIEVE you got the pajamas. Don't talk to me. Seriously.

**Lorimar Jayne:** Why were you at a hospital? Are you a 90 year old woman who slipped on her snowy (yes, snowy in October) doorstep with no one but her 14 cats to hear her faint cries of distress? Luckily, Floofles, the smartest of the gang, went next door and meowed obnoxiously until the neighbors came over. Good one, that Floofles. What a keeper. Here comes the gluey stuff! Peanut brittle… oh, damn, me and my big mouth… come back! You haven't even read the fic yet! I'm not dangerous, I swear. I barely even know what peanu… what the PB word is.

**Krys33**: Although I do love hearing The Amusing Escapades of Krys, the Highlighters, and the Post-its, has it ever occurred to you to get the review box up before reading and then writing in that as you go? Just thinking out loud here. Yes, I do talk like that, and it irritates the hell out of the people I know. I ranted about the oldness and the burning of paper to my class today, and they all had nothing to say, except the normal, "Oh, _Hanna_," that comes with every word that comes out of my mouth. Gah.

**ocdwithlhg**: You're tots cool, babe! Oh yes, I have nailed all the characters. Lorelai was a virgin. Sookie was a little too experimental for my taste. Luke was just plain RAWR. The best, however, was hands-down Kirk. I've never met anyone from the internet, as I think I am too young to be going against the 'Internet people BAD, they are ALL fat ugly rapists' thing burned into my brain (although I sincerely doubt any of you are rapists), but I do email/IM a bunch. Yes, no one can live up to the amazing nameless fan girl/me, but we can all have aspirations, no?

**Alexiamanda**: I'm seriously throwing myself a party. You've inspired me, woman. You're so fine, you blow my mind. I started cracking up at your friend's bad jokes. Seriously, that is GREAT. "Got any tape?" I am so easily amused it's not even funny. Fitted sheets? Hilarious. How can you hate coffee? Uh, it smells so good, I love it. Plus I got Luke's coffee, because I visited Stars Hollow last chapter. Am I privileged or WHAT? I love the word abound.

**Baby Girl Geller-Green:** My mom always comes into my room to make me take pictures of her. Duh, all moms do that. It's part of the midlife crisis and the menopause. You found a turkey muscle website? Do I ever love you. Your ranting status is most definitely increasing, woman! I'm having a positive effect on you.

**Leondra**: Yes, I am like the fan. She is me. Makes her even cooler, if possible, no? Evil genius- great. They're the ones that end up taking over the world, you know. And yes, Michelle IS annoying. I used that phone message on my cell, and it completely backfired. People were like, "Huh? You're Jenny, what?" And then they kept calling me back trying to figure out what the other number I had said (867-5309) was so they could call it. –sigh- I am swimming in a sea of inferior intellect.

**beautifulbutterfly**: I know a girl whose dad works at the WB and he takes her to the parties and stuff, and she's met Lauren, Scott, and Alexis. She's like, "Scott is best friends with my dad, he's so nice. And Alexis is really shy." And she has Lauren's autograph. I almost threw her out of a moving car. Here's your shoutout, but you're gonna have to rant more to get a bigger one. Dance, monkey girl, dance!

**hermione0624:** Wrong, silly. Gallbladder is a one-shot, which I _did_ state very clearly numerous times. I'm no hypocrite! I like how you went back and rereviewed. Please don't become a crazy killer who goes 'Chop chop chop!' Don't use an ax to chop either.

**Ronata**: YOU'RE downright likeable.

**FanOfLOST**: You are very, very cool, missy. I love your profile. That Robert Lennon thing was HILARIOUS.

**waitingtuesday**: Oh, he's perpetually caffeinated. He wears green tights also.

**lukelorelai-en**: -salutes back-

**My fishstick babies**- thank you, thank you, thank you. Here, take a fishstick. They're cold, since you gave them to me a few days ago… oh well. Fishsticks are fishsticks. "Oh really? I though the fishsticks were a hat."

* * *

**Hedge Clippers are the Path to Love**

Chapter Two: Don't Diss Jesus

* * *

_...and move on to Lorelai…_

* * *

Lorelai's eyebrows raised as the unfamiliar girl came up to her and sat at her table. "Do I know you?" 

"I think you're blind," she said by way of greeting.

"Close, but no. I'm actually Lorelai. Okay, my turn. I think you're… Guinevere."

"Uh, no. And how is Lorelai close to blind?"

"Well, they're both English."

"Ah. Well, in that case, you were right too."

Lorelai took a sip of her coffee, nodding. "Mmm. So, why am I blind? Because my optometrist seems to disagree with you."

The girl sighed and leaned in, looking towards the counter. "Look over there. Now what do you see?"

Lorelai turned and looked for a few long moments, squinting her eyes as if she was searching for something. "Luke," she said bluntly after a while.

The girl shook her head and leaned back. "Yep, blind."

"Oh, I'm sorry, is that not Luke? Someone must be doing a pret-ty good impression of him then. Now that you mention, if I squint, it kinds of looks like Mrs. Lanahan."

The girl sighed. "You are such a card."

"Actually, I'm the entire deck," fired back Lorelai smugly.

"Okay, different approach." The girl drummed her fingers on the table, thinking. "What I am about to tell you maybe be something you not want to hear- in fact, I know it is. But nevertheless, it is something you should and need to hear."

Lorelai giggled. "It's like one of those warnings on a TV show telling people that the following program they are about to see has some violence and scenes of sex, and parental guidance is suggested."

"Yes, that's exactly it. Go get a parent, because I don't want you to hear the following sex scene alone."

"I think I can handle it. I am, after all, 25."

The girl nodded with an agreeing frown. "Okay. Have you ever even remotely considered the possibility that Luke has feelings for you?"

Lorelai lifted a shocked eyebrow. "Kid, I don't even know you."

"Exactly, all the better. It's easier to tell strangers stuff, is it not? Or people you know won't judge you. That's why I talk to my elevator doors."

"Do you even know Luke?"

"Oh, yeah. We just had a rousing conversation. We're best pals now. He actually gave me one of those bracelets? His says friends, mine says forever."

"If you don't know either of us, then why are you interfering with this?"

"Well, that's the thing." The girl took a couple deep breaths, as if to steady herself. "I know I should've told you earlier- it must have been so hard for you, and your poor mother…"

"What?"

"I'm your father," she blurted out.

Lorelai nodded. "I've always wondered why Richard and I had so little in common."

"Hmph," the girl pouted, leaning back in her chair sulkily. "You're much less gullible than Luke."

"I've always prided myself on that."

"So?" prompted the girl, propping her elbows up on the table. "Don't try and tell me you've never thought about Luke like that. Because I already know. Can someone say Leopold and Loeb?"

"What?" said Lorelai, furrowing her eyebrows at the sly mention to her dream.

"I mean- you know. It's just like the life story of Leopold and Loeb," the girl stuttered, trying to cover up her slip.

"Luke and I are not gay lovers who murdered some random boy for fun and ended up only going to prison and not getting the death penalty due to their incredibly verbally-gifted lawyer. But if we have to be, can I be Leopold? He was less needy, and plus, he didn't die in a razor fight."

"Of course. But you also happen to be avoiding my question."

"What question?" stalled Lorelai.

"Do you think about you and Luke at all?"

"Of course I think about Luke and me. I think, 'Hey, there's Luke. He should give some coffee to me.' See how that works?"

"I'll move past the admission, which I know would be inevitable. Why don't you _do_ anything about it?"

"About what?"

"About Luke."

"Why don't I do anything about Luke? Oh, believe me, honey, I've tried. But he simply will not put his flannel in the garbage disposal! I even tried to steal a shirt and put it through my paper shredder, but that didn't come out quite as well as planned. I had to rip my paper by hand for a month. Then I stuffed the rest of the shirt in the disposal in my _sink_, which obviously broke it, so I had to get him to come over and fix it, and when he saw what I did he was yelling and he said that it was his favorite shirt, which, as we all know, is impossible, as all his shirts look the same. The man just won't listen to reasoning."

The girl nodded slowly. "Wow. More fun hearing those rants in person."

Just then, the door jingled open and Rory came bouncing in with the winter air, unwrapping her scarf as she walked. "Sorry I'm late."

"Thank goodness you're here, Rabid Dog Tied to a Chain Boy!"

Her back still to the diner, Rory continued. "Have you been out there, it is _freezing_. Taylor was completely out of Kleenex, which is impossible in the winter season because _everyone_ wants Kleenex, and he was being really condescending about it, and I was grumpy and tired and I needed Kleenex, so I just broke down and I said- 'Taylor, you can take your nonexistent Kleenex and put them-'" She turned from untangling her scarf around her hair and caught sight of the girl. "Did you get another daughter while I was in the market?"

"Yes, honey, this is Guinevere," said Lorelai sweetly, thanking God for the intervention.

Rory eyed her suspiciously but sat down anyway. "Okay then."

"So I gathered from your little rant there that you didn't get your Kleenex?"

Rory sighed. "No. My nose is rubbed raw from using kitchen towels." She sniffed. "I'm going to go in the back and see if Luke has any." She stood, threw the calm table intruder one more awkward glance, and disappeared around the back.

"Why doesn't she just use toilet paper?" asked the girl.

Lorelai turned to her. "Did Miss Patty send you?"

"What?"

"To spy on me, to find out about Luke and me. Oh, man, that must be it! That should've been my first guess! I can't believe this. Can't Patty just accept the fact that…"

"Patty didn't send me," said the girl, shrugging. "Can't a girl ask a question?"

"Yes, a girl can ask a question. However, the receiver of the question does not necessarily have to answer the question. In this case, I veto the answering of the question and choose to remain silent."

"Fair enough," she sighed. "And, just in case you were wondering, Luke's in love with you." She stood up. "Well, I think my work here is done. Gotta get back, you know, things to see, people to do. It's been a pleasure chatting with you. Oh, wait." She pulled a wrinkled packet of Kleenex from her purse. "Give this to Rory."

"Wha- Guinevere, will you come back here?" She picked up the Kleenex. "Are you Mary Poppins? And how did you know my daughter's name? What about Luke?"

The girl paused at the door. "No, no, and insert creepy smile. And my name's not Guinevere. And he's in love with you. And bye."

The door jingled and Lorelai leaned back into her chair, shocked.

* * *

Rory sniffled as she leaned over the counter. "Hey, Luke." 

"Hey. Still got that cold?"

She sighed. "Not only do I have to suffer through the torturous symptoms of a cold, I have the pleasure of my congested voice letting everyone know about it. Lovely." She advanced behind the counter. "Do you have any tissues? Doose's is out."

"You're kidding. He's gonna have to deal with a lot of angry sneezing people. I wonder what Hitler would say about such lack of organization. He'll make Taylor give up his mustache."

Rory shook her head. "I know, he'll be crushed. At least he still has his cardigan." She slipped around the corner and into the kitchen, searching for the tissues. "Hey, Luke, do you know who that girl is out there, sitting with Mom?"

Luke turned and saw the annoying girl sitting with Lorelai. "She's still here? Geez, can you believe the nerve of that kid?"

Rory shook her head. "Nope, that's one pretty unbelievable nerve she has there. Where's Ripleys? Hmm… Believe it or Not: Special Nerve Edition. I see soaring ratings."

Luke growled and ranted under his breath. "I can't believe her, talking to Lorelai like that. Who does she think she is? Stupid teenagers. They just waltz in and screw up your perfectly good day with their inside information and their logic and their stupid purse. Who names a purse after a Wizard of Oz character? I don't even wanna know what she's telling Lorelai. She's probably saying I just confessed my undying love for her, and Lorelai will never come back in here again. Dumb kid, she should go back to Land of the Gifted Vocabularians or wherever the hell she came from."

Rory sneezed into the tissue. "My purse's name is Glinda."

"Well, you're twenty. You're not a teenager, you're excused," snapped Luke, slamming the rag down onto counter and scrubbing it viciously.

"You know, Luke, one day you're going to rub right through that thing," Rory observed, almost in awe of Luke's rapid turn in mood. "What did that girl do?"

"Nothing, she just… nothing, she had no basis to… drink coffee when she's not even… almonds in her handbag, and… Dr. Phil with her self-esteem talk and… Jesus _died_ for our sins…" He slammed the rag down, his brain whirling rapidly. 'Ceaser, I'm taking five."

* * *

Sorry this was a tad on the short side, but I make up for the past chapters for the next one... the finale, the big kahuna. Remember that pesky little voice nagging you to review. The voice is always right. The voice is me. Or "Guinevere." Take your pick. 


	3. Metaphorical Shrapnel

_Judgement Day: The fic draws to a close, but with a bang, of course. You know, it's like a fireworks set. You can't just end it with one of those fwoopy ones, you gotta end it with a really pretty swirly one that makes a lot of noise and makes old people yell that seven is much too late to be being so frivolous and whose idea was it to play with fire in the first place?_

_Who else is excited for Season 5 DVD? Maybe it is a tad early for such excitement, but since it comes out seven days before my birthday and I am broke, this means good things for me. Did you know that **pOnDeReSqUe** is being Luke for Halloween? Along with a No Cellphones sign? Can this girl get any cooler? I'm being… the 80's. The big hair and the leg warmers and the weird sweatshirts in all their glory._

_I get to go on a wonderful 5-day trip with my school to the Grand Canyon on Sunday. The bus ride? I'm glad you asked. Nine hours long. NINE frickin' hours. How am I going to last that long? I mean, we could've just taken a plane, we live in LA, but noo, that's much too difficult to sort out, plus it scares the parents that we'll get bombed or have a possessed person open the door with his super strength or yell, "I know what happened to your girlfriend!" and we'll all die. I hate paranoia._

_The people who asked… Guinevere is pronounced Gwen-ih-veer. My God, isn't that universal knowledge?_

_We were in class on Wednesday and all of a sudden this weird beepy flashy thingy started beeping and flashing. It was an EARTHQUAKE drill. We had to curl up like little eggs by the baseboard of the wall. I was cracking up hysterically. Then it took me a while to get up from said egg-like position- I am deficient in that area, apparently. Important for future reference, I'm sure. They make us go outside (for fire drills too) and stand in a straight line with the rest of our grade. Straight line, always must be STRAIGHT. I don't understand... if someone leans out, a teacher whirls over and is like, "Get in a straight line! We're trying to count you!" Like if we lean out, we suddenly become invisible and they can't see us to count us? -head tilts slightly- "OH MY GOD! Where is Hanna? We've got a man down! Repeat, we have a man down! This is NOT a drill! Get the fire department in on this! Stat! Stat!" -head centers- "Oh, boy. There she is. We thought we lost you. Stand down, everybody. The raid is off." And they don't let us make noise. Does that distract them too or something? My theory is that they think if we don't move or make noise, the earthquake won't realize we're there, and it'll go away. That's sensible thinking, no? –sigh- Private schools, a waste of money if that's the level of intelligence our faculty has._

_**Disclaimer: **I own… -looks around- Uh… oh my God, where's Gilmore Girls?_

**Luciously Loined One:** That song is really annoying. All my friends sing it, while I am in the background desperately trying to regain sanity by singing Duran Duran songs. I am ignored, though. Ohh, a you and Luke rap duo. I love it. Can some one say MANAGER? I wanna be like the manager in Spinal Tap. Ooh… PSAT's? I just got confirmation! I'm so younger than you! Hand over that Reading is Sexy shirt, you high-school biznatch. I don't know whether I'm Amy or Lorelai. I might be Lorelai, because I do have the specific Lorelai traits of coffee loving, not-being-famous, and the dread of therapist-like soul gushing. Although I do love writing, like Amy, and I am currently wearing a hat. And I have the humor and movie and music obsessedness of them both. Either way, I'm completely awesome. Your Ya is Ya? Sounds like the greatest song ever. That sentence actually amused me too. I looked at it, a long time after I wrote it, and was like, "How can the eyebrow _itself_ be shocked?" But I left it due to its amusement factor. That toothbrush thing is so true, and not off-topic. Nothing is ever off-topic in _my _little rambling world. Fine, you and Guinevere can be best friends. Thanks a lot for leaving me out. Hey, why don't we just let OPRAH pass us the nuts when we're on her show together?

**Lassie Girl**: -sigh- Fine, I have to do a _normal_ shout out. You're so oppressive to my creative and free nature. Especially since you spent the whole review telling me how conceited and weird I was, damning me five times, oh my geezing me five times, and doing both in one sentence once (for mentioning Hitler. Crazy dog). Yeah, I love you too, babe. Muffin Is Injured doesn't _have_ the little lines, is what I was trying to say. There's no little lines! Just spaces! I put that word giggled in just to spite you, dearest. Those Friends Forever bracelets really irriate me. (Irritating list!) Poor mean pregnant lady. Oh, now, don't diss 7th graders. We ourselves were 7th graders not so long ago. Tell your sister I'm sorry. Not that I had anything to do with it… although you never know. –creepy villainous laugh sounds as fog swirls around computer. Muffin disappears-

**Izz my puppy**: Geez. Your review is frightfully long. But it's deceptive, you put TWO entire song lyrics in there. Crazy girl. Ugh, that BOY. You can't trust in them anyway. Your teacher is cooler than mine. My Geometry teacher has a Dawson's Creek poster on his wall. No joke. I remember Keenan and Kel. I used to love All That too but now it's all freaky and ugh. Isn't it weird that the Chelsea Brummet girl was young Lorelai? That hug was awkward. It looked like your little Kirby arms were hugging someone's face sideways. Oh, my God. I googled 'famous bears' to get inspiration for the type of bear you should be and there's an ENTIRE WEBSITE on it. 'Minka's Bear Passion.' Poor Minka. What a loser. Find the website. My God, each type of bear has their own little shpiel! Click on the Care Bears. "Good Luck Bear: The Care Bears' mascot, because he has Lady Luck riding with him." How dirty is that? You're either Funshine, because what kind of a name is that, Grams, because that amuses me, or Tugs, because his icon is a star in a diaper. I remember Tookie Clothespin. At my school, we don't call it PE, we call it… Fitness For Life. Nice, huh? I have to do yoga right now. She made us do this thing where we all wiggle and make all our muscles go soft. She's like, "Make yuh tung go thoft. Thoft, make ewything thoft!" And they all looked like they were spazzing out. She was like, "Become golden and gelatinous!" I was exploding on the floor with laughter. You know, you can't see URLs in reviews or chapters.

**Alexiamanda**: Woah, that is freaky beyond belief. I love Whose Line, I watched one the other day where Ryan kissed Collin and it was very amusing. Then a lot of shirt-shoes comments were fired back and forth. I love to name inanimate objects. This one is named The Viper, and the other one… well, I named it Compy a really long time ago, and then I was like, what is wrong with you, that is the stupidest name for a computer ever. So now I call him The Artist Formerly Known as Compy. I told my friends that Prince had changed his name to a symbol and they called him The Artist Formerly Known as Prunce, and they didn't BELIEVE me. They are so ill-informed. Yeah, what if you're talking to an invisible person and then it walks away? You'll never know. It could get all its friends and hide somewhere (not that invisible people need to hide) and they'd all laugh at you. I like that Scott thing. I've never heard the expression sweet manna from heaven. You didn't say one thing about my story, did you realize that?

**Baby Girl Gellar-Green:** Short-tempered? WHAT? You're calling me SHORT-TEMPERED? I have had just QUITE enough of your insolence, missy! (That's me thinking I'm funny.) Three-chapters are bad luck? I guess I'll just have to post 2… ha, which is problematic since this happens to be the third chapter! Deal, babe. I LOVE the pirating one. There's this one we see only when we rent movies in England. "The pirates are out to get you. Don't let them brand you with their mark." And there's all this sweat and hissing and evil guys branding things with devilish laughter. My sister and I are obsessed with it. We play it so many times that it's probably longer than the movie itself. You like saying insert? You have a dirty future.

**Leondra**: Almost met her match? Excuse me, Lorelai better frickin' step down, because there's a new girl in town who WOAH just made a rhyme. Sorry, very easily distracted. No, it never said her purse was named Glinda anywhere. Can't one improvise? Yeah, watching sex scenes with parents would make them more emotionally scarring. Although I guess it prevents horny teenage boys from getting as much pleasure from it as they normally would. Ohh, I love Dora the Explorer. My friends and I went through a phase in 4th grade where we went around asking everybody what their favorite part was, pausing for the appropriate amount of time, and then saying, "I liked that too."

**Michelle my Shell**: Jombles, baby. Sorry about your oppressive, non-reviewing life and your Emily-esque mother. You really need to tell me all about the Gilmore event when it happens. Kapish?

**Krys33**: Stupid stationary review box. The least it could do is dance or something. Even a little shimmy would appease the masses. Yes, I talk to my elevator doors. I named them Clem and Clem, like the brothers with the mothers that were on Lorelai's shoulders. Yeah, it was a Whose Line reference, I love that show so much.

**FanOfLOST**: I'm going to have to agree with you on Guinevere's coolness. I tried to make a noise that was a combination of a congested hack, a sneeze, a burp, and a snort. I sounded like a dying pig. How do you make a hack sound congested?

**beautifulbutterfly**: Hmm, your review length is rapidly increasing. I am very proud of you, grasshopper. (Last chapter, you were a monkey. You morph with my fancy.) You will soon be rambling with the best of them, Led Zeppelin. I love Whose Line, I actually quoted it last chapter. Woah, did you just call me chicky baby?

**Jennalynn**: That's my secret. I'm really 82 years old, and I can barely type due to my arthritis.

**JP**: Ms Lanahan is the one who rented Luke's old house with the boat in the garage.

* * *

**Hedge Clippers are the Path to Love**

Chapter Three: Metaphorical Shrapnel

* * *

Lorelai sat staring at the girl's retreating back, frozen in her seat. "Wow."

"What?" said Rory, seating herself next to Lorelai again with a wad of fresh tissues clutched in her palm.

"Wow," repeated Lorelai calmly. "I said wow, and wow is what I mean. Therefore, I again say, 'Wow.'"

"Wow," repeated Rory, looking at Lorelai.

'Wow," said Lorelai simply, nodding her head.

"Wanna explain the reason for your sudden burst of fondness for that word?"

Lorelai motioned towards the now still door with her head. "Her."

"Your new daughter Guinevere?"

Lorelai nodded. "Not named Guinevere."

"Mom?"

"Not named Mary Poppins either."

"Mom, you're starting to wig me out a little."

Lorelai's head snapped towards Rory. "She's not my father, though. She said she was. She didn't mean it. Maybe she didn't mean anything. The rest could be a lie. Why should I trust her judgment? You know, it's like when you're a kid doing research for a science project, but they'll only let you use certain websites, and never Google because you'll probably end up getting information from a website made by an 11-year-old living in Oregon who says that velocity is a kind of raptor and the Fig Newton guy made up those rules about staying at rest or moving until an outside force is applied."

"Do you need me to call the nice men in the pretty white jackets to take you away?" said Rory soothingly. "They're on speed dial on my cell."

Lorelai sighed and studied a burn mark on her finger from her hair straightener. "No, that's alright."

"Okay, when you give a serious answer to a question like that, that's when I know there's something really wrong. I can deal with Fig Newtons and Mary Poppins, but this isn't you." Rory raised her eyebrows at her mother's lack of response. "Did you and not-Guinevere have a little tiff?"

"A tiff?"

"Yes, a tiff. A little tiffy tiff. Tell me about the tiff in a jiff."

Lorelai groaned. "God, you know how to get me to focus. Using stupid British phrases."

'Works every time," said Rory, satisfied and leaning back in her chair. "Now stay with me or I'll use 'bloody' as an adjective intensifier."

"Please, spare me."

"So…" prodded Rory, her voice lilting.

"So, not-Guinevere over there came over and sat next to me. Never seen her before a day in my life. She just comes up and sits there. And she ends up telling me, right before she leaves, that Luke is _in love_ with me. Audacious or what? It's like the time in 8th grade my mom made me do ballet, and the teacher would ask us to tell us our 'intentions' for the dance was before each dance, and it got so irritating that I typed up a double spaced five-paragraph essay on my intention, laminated it, and put it in a decorated folder and read it aloud to the class. I remember _specifically_ being told how audacious I was and then being demoted to a dancing tree. And this girl just comes in here, drops the bomb, and scarpers."

"You should've been more prepared for that bomb. You knew it was coming."

"Did not!"

"Come on, Mom. Everybody knows about the bomb. Miss Patty knew about the bomb, Babette knew about the bomb, even Kirk knew about the bomb, and you know how behind he is in the times- he's growing out his hair for a mullet to please Lulu."

Lorelai gasped. "They all knew the bomb was being dropped?"

"Not dropped, per se, but they knew of the existence of the bomb."

"I don't think the bomb even exists. It's a fake bomb. You know, it'll tick and tick but no explosion."

"Trust me, there's an explosion."

"Nuh uh! I'd have shrapnel," argued Lorelai.

"I think you do have a little shrapnel," said Rory wisely.

"I'm sorry, I'm lost- where does shrapnel lie in this extended metaphor?"

Rory sighed. "You're impossible. I can't reason with this woman," she declared to the imaginary audience on her left.

"I win. No bomb," said Lorelai gleefully.

"Mom, there is so a bomb. And it's getting ready to go off."

Kirk leapt up from his table, his grilled chicken sandwich almost fully devoured. "A bomb?" He yanked the napkin out of collar. "Don't panic, anybody!" he called in what he thought was a commanding voice. "I know how to deactivate the bomb, it was in a play I did in high school. Does anyone have a small piece of Velcro, about the size of my forefinger?" He received blank stares. "Okay, how about a Simple Minds CD?" Kirk waited and gulped. "We better get out of here." Kirk sped for the door, tripped over Ceaser, Rory's chair, and Babette's purse, and flung himself through the door. "You're goners, all of you!" came his muffled shriek from through the glass as he whirled home in a lopsided sprint.

There was the normal three-seconds of silence that traditionally followed a Kirk spaz attack, and then the diner clanked back to life as people shoveled their food into their mouths and conversation resumed.

"I don't know why you're so eager to deny the bomb's existence."

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Rory, just drop it. I don't wanna talk about it, and, being the mother, I make the rules."

"Fair enough," said Rory with a shrug. Just then, her pager beeped. "Ooh, it's Lane. I forgot I told her we'd hang out today. Is that okay?"

Lorelai waved her hands dismissively. "Go, hang, be young. I'll sit here, alone, old, and rotting, while you college girls go wild getting drunk at frat parties."

"That's more you than me." Rory stood and grabbed her purse. "Plus, you could deal with the alone thing if you'd just…"

"Chop chop, Rory, get a bloody move on! Cheerio and toodle pip, old bean, I'll see you in a hop, skip, and a jump, me old china."

Rory shook her head. "Gets me every time." She kissed her mom's cheek. "See you tonight at the house."

"I'll be the decaying crone huddled in the corner!" she called back.

* * *

Luke had his head in his hands and was pacing around his apartment anxiously. He had no idea why anything that girl had said was making even the slightest impact on him. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was completely out of the blue- it wasn't Miss Patty's daily attempt to push their faces together or Babette's obnoxious comments ringing all over the diner in her irritating accent. "Look at the buns on that man, eh, Lorelai? No butter needed, just take him how it is. He's delicious enough already. Soft and creamy- though not so sure about the soft part, huh, doll?" Insert wheezing laugh. "Definitely not soft, look at the way he's always behind that counter. Hiding something, I betcha. Gotta have an entire counter to hide something that big!"

No. This was a random girl he had never seen before in his life, waltzing up to him smugly and telling him in no uncertain terms that Lorelai liked him and he should ask her out. Just like that! He was speechless. And he couldn't stop pacing. His legs were on autopilot as his brain mirrored his confused movements. It was sudden, it was unexpected, and it threw him off completely.

* * *

Lorelai had been swirling the spoon around her cup for so long that there was more coffee on the table than in the cup, and the liquid had gone cold, both of which were big blasphemous no-no's in Lorelai's book. She drummed her fingers on the cold table impatiently, and her eyes narrowed, her mouth curling to one side. Then back. Left, right, left. Her fingers tapped out the beat to "Don't You Forget About Me." She absentmindedly took a sip of her coffee and discreetly spat it back in. She fingered her hair and contemplated how she'd look with a Mohawk. She decided her left pinky fingernail was too long and proceeded to bite it off. Her jeans had a stain on the left pocket. She tried to pick at it, but she'd bitten off all 10 fingernails already.

Suddenly her chair was thrown back with a screech and she stood up defiantly. With a new confidence driving her, she marched up to the counter and, looking around with an air of power, took a donut. And sat back down. And thumped her head on the table a couple of times. The spoon fell out of her coffee cup with a clang and dripped cold coffee on her hair.

The diner watched this fascinating display with awe. She peered around suspiciously with the look of a paranoid old man who thinks he's still fighting in the Vietnam War and locks all his underwear drawers and kitchen cabinets. "What're you lookin' at," she grumbled, ripping a huge chunk out of her donut with her teeth. Bleh, apricot. She finished the bite for dramatic effect and stood and disappeared behind the curtain.

* * *

Luke ran a hand across his stubbly face and sighed. How pathetic was he, pacing his tiny apartment and taking the caffeine-inducing ramblings of a teenage girl he didn't even know seriously. Well, no more. He took off his cap, ran his fingers through his hair, and wedged it back on his head firmly, stalking to the door, throwing it open… and colliding with Lorelai.

"Oh, Luke," she said, surprised, taking a step back and smoothing her shirt. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," he said dryly, cocking one eyebrow.

"Oh. Right." Lorelai mentally smacked herself. _Stupid_, she hissed. _You came up here to talk to him and now you're scaring him away. You've barely said two words to him yet and look at him, standing there, all scared and flannelly and sexy with that little eyebrow and the voice and OY with the internal babbling already and talk to him._

"So, Luke," she started, "where were you off to just now?"

"The diner," he replied patiently.

"The diner. Well, good, the diner, that's a good place to be going. Especially since you run it. I mean, it wouldn't be a _bad_ place to go if you didn't run it because, hi, I don't run it and I'm here everyday. But the fact that you run it makes it even better you're going there. I run an inn, and I'm not there right now, which is possibly a bad thing, but you never know, because Michel hasn't called my cell yet in a panic about napkin rings or anything, so all signs point to a well-run inn, run well without me, not that it's not run well when I'm there or anything, but…" She coughed. "So going to the diner, huh?"

"Yep."

"I was just there," she said, pointing a thumb behind her.

"I noticed."

"Right. Right. Because you were just there too. Because you run it."

Luke took a step towards the steps. "So, if you're…"

Lorelai brushed past him and into the apartment. "Do you have any hedge clippers?"

"Hedge clippers?" said Luke quizzically, surrendering to the inevitable and closing the door behind him.

"Yeah, you know. You clip hedges with them, and I don't have any, and I was wondering if you do." She circled his kitchen table, rapping the wood with her fingers nervously. Internally, she flogged herself. _Hedge clippers? Gilmore, you are so losing your touch._

"You don't… have hedges," reminded Luke slowly.

"So?"

"So, if you were going to clip hedges with hedge clippers, wouldn't you need some hedges to clip?"

"Ah, well, that question goes right up there with 'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?'" quipped Lorelai.

Luke nodded slightly. "Right." They both stood for a moment, Luke by the door and Lorelai leaning on his kitchen table.

"So…" he ventured after a while. "Hedge clippers?"

Lorelai looked up. "Huh?"

"Hedge clippers. You wanted hedge clippers."

"Oh, yeah, right. I did, I did want hedge clippers," said Lorelai, stuttering furiously.

"I might have some buried away in here, but I don't know. I don't really… clip hedges very often," said Luke, striding over to his closet, bending down, and digging through some boxes on the bottom. Lorelai watched him, gnawing on her lip nervously.

"I feel bad, making you go through all this trouble just to get me some stupid hedge clippers," said Lorelai, fear suddenly coursing through her. "I don't really need them."

Luke stood up, brushing some dust off his knees. "Okay, I guess so."

Lorelai studied him. "But, on second thought, they would be pretty damn useful. You know, to clip things with. Especially hedges. I'm sure you could clip other things beside hedges with hedge clippers, but the name does imply that use of the clippers on hedges would be more socially accepted than use of the clippers on some other object that needed clipping." _Gilmore, you're on fire. He'll be all over you in a few seconds._

Luke raised his eyebrows at her. "If you say so." He turned back to the closet, searching along the top shelves and finally pulling out some rusty green hedge clippers. "They're pretty old. I haven't used them for a while."

Lorelai smiled too widely. "Thanks, Luke, you're a doll, an absolute doll."

Luke paused. "Don't you want the hedge clippers?"

"Oh, right, right," she said, taking them from him. Now that she had her much sought-after hedge clippers, she had no idea what to do. "Well. Thank you, Luke, for these," she said, waving the hedge clippers at him. She stood there, clutching the hedge clippers with a Stepford smile on her face, unmoving.

"Uh… that's alright." He surveyed her awkward stance warily. "So, unless you desperately need a leaf blower or something, I'll see you downstairs." He began to walk past her, but she grabbed his arm. She was doing this all wrong.

"Wait, I…" Her voice petered out as she stared at him. "Uh…"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever seen Mary Poppins?" Lorelai suddenly blurted out. _Oh, sure. That's exactly what I meant to say._

"Uh, probably a long time ago when I was a kid," he replied cautiously.

"Well. It's a good movie. Dick van Dyke sweeps a chimney and sings. Plus her purse- it has, like, everything in it. Lemme tell ya, I learned everything I know from that woman. She taught me how to get Rory's medicine to go down when she was younger."

"Yeah, that was a song too," said Luke, vaguely remembering and having no idea where Lorelai was taking this.

"I was… I was just noticing that the Black and White and Read was playing it tomorrow night. Coincidence, huh?" She didn't wait for an answer. "So, I was thinking, since we both seem to like it so much, maybe we can watch it tomorrow. Together."

"Together?" said Luke, his brows furrowing.

"Yeah, together. I mean, if we're both there, and sitting within a couple yards of each other, we kind of can't help watching it together. So, we'll both be watching it, near one another, so I guess you could call it watching it together. Sure."

"Uhh…" Luke watched Lorelai's face with curiosity. "Yeah, okay."

"Okay?" said Lorelai.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Good," said Lorelai, smiling broadly. "That's good." She nodded a few times, looking away. "Okay. So, uh, I'll come round the diner at, like, 8 or something. It starts at 8:30, but Kirk's been really getting into the whole industry aspect of it and plays about 15 minutes of Trident Gum commercials. We can get some pie or something at the diner first. Not that you'll eat it, even though you made it, which I find slightly weird. Like a practicing what you don't preach bizarre twisted scenario."

"That's okay, I'll just pick you up from your house." He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, rocking on his feet.

Lorelai's smile grew wider. "Oh, okay, even better." She smoothed down the crease she'd made on Luke's flannel clad arm and brushed past him, her hand on the doorknob. "So, I'll see you then, huh?"

"Yes, you will."

Lorelai's smile expanded to her ears and Luke's followed suit. "Okay." She turned the knob. "Remember, it's the last day of the month tomorrow, which is dress up day at the movies."

"Oh, goody," he said dryly.

"Yeah," said Lorelai, nodding sternly. "I'm expecting you to bring a chimney brush."

Luke snorted. "You want me sweeping chimneys during the movie?"

"Not in the theater, Luke," reprimanded Lorelai, shocked. "Mary Poppins is a _family_ movie."

"Ah, geez," sighed Luke. "The way your mind works."

Lorelai flashed him her signature Flirtatious grin. "See you, Luke."

Luke gulped. "Bye, Lorelai." The door closed and he exhaled a huge breath, flopping into his armchair with a sort of wry smirk on his face.

* * *

Lorelai stepped out of the diner and practically skipped down the sidewalk, swinging the hedge clippers in her left hand. Ha! She had just asked Luke out on a date. Not gracefully, admittedly, but it was done, and that was that. She was so making an alter for those hedge clippers. Or at least finding some hedges to clip. Did Stars Hollow have hedges? The wind blew her hair back as she increased speed. She turned the corner and hit straight into the girl from that morning.

"You!"

"Promise me one thing," said the girl. "You're naming your first born Guinevere, and that is final." She smiled devilishly. "It's been a pleasure." She looped her thumbs through her jeans and strolled off.

* * *

_Did you know that équipe de déminage is bomb disposal squad in French? See, these are the things I should be learning, not crap things like "Where is the bathroom?" and "I want a croissant." Ou est la toilet? Je veux un croissant? Non, je ne CARE pas._

_Oh, and that story about the ballet and the essay was really me and my idiotic soccer coach. It was a kick (pardon the pun)._

_So, that is the official end of my extremely AU crazy fic. Hey, can't a girl be experimental once in a while? No dirty intended there. I was slightly doubtful about it at the beginning, but it's grown on me, and now we're very close. We brunch every Thursday._

_Can I please not think of a clever way to ask for reviews? It really takes a toll on my fragile psyche. Don't any of you have the presence of mind to review without any persuading on my part?_


End file.
